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~::人物移动的回合制游戏|Jimena Carranza::~

~::人物移动的回合制游戏|Jimena Carranza::~

                                            • The ugly six-story building at the corner of the Kochstrasse and the Wilhelmstrasse was the only one standing in a waste of empty bombed space. Bond paid off his taxi and got a brief impression of the neighborhood-waist-high weeds and half-tidied rubble walls stretching away to a big deserted crossroads lit by a central cluster of yellowish arc lamps-before he pushed the bell for the fourth floor and at once heard the click of the door opener. The door closed itself behind him, and he walked over the uncarpeted cement floor to the old-fashioned lift. The smell of cabbage, cheap cigar smoke, and stale sweat reminded him of other apartment houses in Germany and Central Europe. Even the sigh and faint squeal of the slow lift were part of a hundred assignments when he had been fired off by M., like a projectile, at some distant target where a problem waited for his coming, waited to be solved by him. At least this time the reception committee was on his side. This time there was nothing to fear at the top of the stairs.Nevertheless, though I was but an innocent Country Girl, yet I was not so ignorant of the World, but to know or believe, that often those Beau Rakes, have the Cunning and Assurance to make Parents on both sides, Steps to their Childrens Disgrace, if not Ruin: For very often, good Country Ladies, who reflect not on the Vileness of the World, permit their Daughters to give private Audiences, to their Lovers, in some obscure Arbour or distant Drawing-room; where the Spark has Opportunity to misbehave himself to the Lady; which, if she resent, there is a ready Conveniency for him to bespatter her with Scandal. And I did not know but Bellair might have some such thing in his Thoughts, out of Malice for my having rejected his Intrigue by the Gossip. For I could not fancy my-self endow'd with Charms sufficient to hold fast such a Volage; however, I knew my self safe under my Mother's Prudence, and my own Resolution.

                                              Time passed and James Bond still sat there, occasionally smoking halfway through a Royal Blend and then absent-mindedly stubbing it out in the bed-table ashtray. No observer could have guessed what Bond was thinking about-or how intently he was concentrating. There were some signs of tension-the pulse in his left temple was beating a little fast, the lips were slightly pursed-but the brooding, blue-grey eyes that saw nothing were relaxed, almost sleepy. It would have been impossible to guess that James Bond was contemplating the possibility of his own death later that day, feelmg the soft-nosed bullets tearing into him, seeing his body jerking on the ground, his mouth perhaps screaming. Those were certainly part of his thoughts, but the twitching right hand was evidence that, in much of the whirring film of his thoughts, the enemy's fire was not going unanswered-perhaps had even been anticipated.

                                                                                      • He took the letter and read it carefully. He handed it back. "A very nice letter. Very, er, businesslike. I don't get the bit about the soap."Col. Have you no other clue? What an extraordinary affair!

                                                                                        He cannot be a Gentleman, whate鈥檈r his station be!

                                                                                                                                • Miss C. This seems a good big house, but rather too much like a prison. Have you those bars on all the windows?

                                                                                                                                  AND INDIA.